


O Sole Mio

by Burgundy_In_Chaucer



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Blind Date, F/M, First Date, Implied Sexual Content, Italian Food, Light Angst, Mostly Fluff, using their words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21935425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgundy_In_Chaucer/pseuds/Burgundy_In_Chaucer
Summary: Life in the bunker after Chinatown is challenging to negotiate for the Team. Luckily for Lucy and Flynn, they find comfort in one another during this time. After Jiya has a vision that indicates that Rittenhouse can be defeated and Rufus saved if Flynn and Lucy remain close to one another, Connor Mason takes matters into his own hands to arrange a blind date for the two shy love birds.This story grew when I had too much fun writing random bunker events.
Relationships: Connor Mason & Jiya Marri, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Rufus Carlin/Jiya Marri (mentioned)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 99





	1. Cocoa Puffs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Min (@mshad90)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Min+%28%40mshad90%29).



> Merry Christmas to @mshad90, one of the funniest people I know! Min was my Garcy Secret Santa for 2018, but when I was unable to finish my story last winter due to my husband's car accident, I swore I would not stop until I finally got Min her story. I hope she (and you) enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to @LadyAllieLeigh for beta-ing!
> 
> All manips (chapters 2, 4, 5, and 6) are mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely trio find solace together in the aftermath of Rufus's death in Chinatown.

The silence in the bunker was thick. It had been just two or three hours since the future versions of Lucy and Wyatt had departed, holding close most of the knowledge they had brought from the future, sharing only snippets. They had met with Connor and Jiya to discuss technical issues of time travel within one's own timeline, giving them the details necessary to allow the present team to do it themselves. And then they left, and it was as if they had never even been there. Now only the present team and Denise remained in the bunker, each left alone once again with their pain, and fear, and heartache surrounding the death of their beloved Rufus in 1888.

Lucy sighed as she shuffled into the bunker kitchen. She was hungry, but finding something appetizing there would be next to impossible. Coffee was always a safe bet, and after putting on a pot to brew, she picked up a banana that was lying on the counter to determine if it was still okay to eat. It seemed soft, and she realized it had actually been there since the Salem mission, so setting it back down, she allowed her inner child to get the best of her and poured herself a bowl of Flynn's Cocoa Puffs. Finally, she sat at one of the tables and began to eat the sugary cereal, barely tasting it as the events of the last few hours replayed over and over in her head...

"Ah, Lucy, I love you." It was the last thing she had expected Wyatt to say when he had joined her in the hallway after their mission to Chinatown. Truthfully, she hadn’t wanted his company. She had wanted to be alone. Instead, Wyatt had inserted himself into her quiet time, ignoring her body language that all but screamed of her need for silence, and had selfishly begun pouring his heart out to her. Lucy had listened, shell shocked, as he continued to overlook the fact that her mother had just hours prior been murdered right in front of her. Not once had he offered his condolences, even when it must have been clear to him that Carol’s covered body was lying motionless on the ground behind Lucy in that photo studio in Chinatown. Yet he had thought that proclaiming his love for Lucy so soon after Carol and Rufus’s deaths was completely appropriate. He had even seemed to use Rufus's death as an excuse to do so. Lucy had barely been able to stomach it. The arrival of their future selves had been a shock, but a welcome interruption to Wyatt's selfish musings. 

Lucy sighed and took another bite of cereal, her thoughts now drifting to Flynn. As soon as he had walked into that photo studio, he had raked his eyes over her, likely checking for injuries, if past experience had taught her anything about him. Only after determining that she was uninjured had he asked about her mother and offered simple condolences. Despite her shock at witnessing the death of her mother, Lucy had felt a tenuous calm when Flynn had walked into the room. Even prior to Chinatown, she had found herself seeking him out more, wanting to spend more time with the man who could talk her out of her own head. But what had he been about to tell her when Wyatt had barged in on the two of them in the studio? Lucy’s heart had skipped a beat as Flynn had folded his tall frame to kneel in front of her. She had asked him why he was there, why he had decided to stay with the team. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear that he had been staring at her in fear, willing her to know the answer without him having to say it. And then later, the way he had lifted her up and held her when she had been pummeled to within an inch of her life by Emma in that alley… Lucy’s breath caught as she remembered how he had pulled her from the abyss and lowered his forehead to hers, just a few short hours ago. She shook her head, confused by the thoughts running through it, but vowing to return to that line of thinking at a later date, after she had had time to properly mourn.

Lucy’s eyes filled with tears, and the enormity of the team’s loss hit her again. She shook her head sadly at what in retrospect were obviously really bad decisions on Wyatt’s part that had led to Rufus’s death, and continued to slowly eat her cereal. About halfway through her bowl, she heard footsteps approaching. She clenched her teeth as she stared at the table, not at all ready to deal with Wyatt again. He probably wanted to pick up where he had left off when the Future Lifeboat had interrupted them, and quite frankly, she had more interest in watching paint dry or even worse, a NASCAR race, than in talking to him. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face him, and was surprised to see Connor standing there. Connor Mason, whose genius had led to all of this, a former billionaire, now reduced to a grieving and guilt-ridden man. 

"I...I'm sorry, Lucy," Connor stuttered, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I was hoping to find something to eat, but if you'd rather be alone, I can return later." Lucy did want to be alone, but something in Connor's eyes grabbed her attention and wouldn't allow her to send him away.

"No, it's alright," Lucy said, pushing out the chair across from her with her toe and nodding at the table. "Please. I think we all could use some company after the day we've just had," she said softly, staring at the table. 

Connor paused. ”Alright." He grabbed the box of Cocoa Puffs and a bowl and sat down across from Lucy. He was silent for a full minute, then tried to begin speaking three times before finally settling on, “How are you holding up, Lucy? I know we have all been… we’re all… by Rufus..." he cleared his throat, eyes tearing up as he struggled to continue, "and I know that your relationship with your mother was... complicated. But how are you doing?"

Lucy swirled her spoon around in the brown milk remaining in her bowl, not sure what to say, no clue how she was doing. For Flynn and Connor to show her so much kindness over the death of a mother who was the sworn enemy of the team made her shake her head in wonder. Lucy did not know this timeline’s version of Carol Preston, yet suspected that even the new timeline’s rendition of Lucy Preston had always tried in vain to impress her mother. Obviously, her recent discovery that Carol was Rittenhouse, followed soon after by her trying to kill Lucy on multiple occasions, made an already questionable relationship even more strained. Lucy sighed and said softly, “I don’t know. I haven’t wrapped my head around losing Rufus. He was just so… full of life.” She gave Connor a sad smile. “I can still hear his loud laugh bouncing through the bunker if I listen really hard.” She paused a minute as if trying again. “And my mother! She was a horrible, evil person, but she was… my mother. I'm having a really hard time reconciling the woman who used to make waffles with me on Saturday mornings when I was a kid with the woman who tried to brainwash me when Rittenhouse captured me. It’s, uh, confusing, if ‘understatement’ is what you’re looking for.” 

Connor sighed and looked sadly across the table at Lucy. "Lucy, I can't even begin to imagine how difficult it is for you to be mourning the death of someone who essentially turned out to be your enemy. You must be questioning the role of your family in your life, of your whole childhood. It would be difficult not to at a time like this.” He paused for a moment, his mouth twisting with emotion. “But one thing I learned recently is that family is not necessarily bound to us through bloodlines. It can be the people we surround ourselves with, people we care about, worry about. You all, here in the bunker,” he looked down then, unable to meet the intense gaze Lucy had suddenly fixed upon him, “you have somehow managed to become my family.” 

Lucy looked silently at Connor, throat tight, and was about to respond when light footsteps announced the arrival of another team member. Because of the quiet approach, Lucy was not surprised to see Flynn walk into the kitchen. As he silently took in the scene, he raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded respectfully, murmuring in a low voice, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

As he started to back out of the room, Lucy leaned forward and responded earnestly, “Don’t go… Stay.” She looked over at Connor, who smiled and nodded at the chair next to him. Flynn didn’t say a word, but his relief at not being sent away from the tiny gathering was clearly reflected in his eyes. He grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, a small melamine bowl with the Little Prince printed on its base, and filled it to the brim with the last of the Cocoa Puffs.

Lucy lowered her head to hide a smile as she noted the child’s bowl Flynn had chosen for his cereal, and she watched surreptitiously as he covered the cereal with milk. In three steps, he was at the table lowering himself into the chair across from her. His eyes flickered towards hers as he picked up his tiny bowl, and Lucy knew she had been caught staring at him. Under any other circumstances, Lucy knew that a smirk and a smart remark would soon follow, but today was different. Flynn set down his bowl and continued to gaze at Lucy, who saw worry and grief and sympathy pass over his face. He remained silent as he leaned forward, hands reaching towards her without touching her, appearing as if he were trying to see the very inside of her soul. 

“Lucy,” Flynn murmured, hesitating once again before taking her tiny hands in his large ones. “Are you OK?” 

Lucy closed her eyes, overwhelmed by his genuine concern. The fact that the man who had torched his way through history was also the man most able to calm her increasingly tumultuous soul was stunning to her. She shook her head slightly, and sat quietly with her hands in Flynn’s, content, until all of a sudden she realized they had been sitting like that for almost a minute. Cheeks burning, she extracted one of her hands and reached across the table to take one of Connor’s hands. “I don’t think any of us are OK right now,” she said, “I mean, Rufus, my mother, Jessica…” 

Connor cleared his throat, looking back and forth between Flynn and Lucy. Again, he looked as if he were searching for the right thing to say, then responded to Lucy, “This is a lot for all of us. We need to support one another in the days and weeks ahead.” Lucy squeezed his hand, which seemed to encourage him to go on, “I know I will find purpose in working with Jiya to get us up to speed with the technology our future, ah, friends, have gifted us. It seems the two of you have forged a friendship since our Delta Blues mission, which I’m happy to see. We all need friends right now. I hope you can find solace in one another. As friends,” he added, after watching Lucy’s cheeks redden and Flynn lick his lips nervously. They were all still holding hands, and Flynn and Lucy quickly let go of one another. 

The three bunker mates finished their Cocoa Puffs in silence, simply enjoying one another’s company. Finally, Flynn gathered all three bowls and placed them in the sink. Turning around, he addressed Lucy, standing tall, but sounding so uncertain, “Lucy, if you don’t want to be alone right now…” he ran his hand through his hair, “um, you can talk to me. If you’d like. Any time.” He made as if to leave, then added with a gesture down the hall, “If you DO want to be alone, erm, please… the room is yours. If you’d like.” Then with an awkward nod at Lucy and Connor, he retreated in the direction he had indicated.

“Lucy…” Connor began in a questioning tone, obviously feeling as if he needed to say something.

“I don’t know, Connor,” Lucy whispered. “I don’t know.” She shook her head in disbelief, “He stranded us in 1754. He had Rufus shot! But he’s becoming a friend. He IS a friend. And he’s there for me even when no one else is.” And pouring two cups of coffee, she shuffled down the hall after Flynn. 

Connor eyed Lucy’s retreating figure thoughtfully, wondering if Flynn was going to stay or leave, then poured two more mugs of coffee and retiring to his work on the Lifeboat. Thanks to the future versions of Lucy and Wyatt, he now had endless calculations he could run while pondering over the friendship he now saw between the tiny historian and her former enemy. 


	2. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy and Flynn become roommates.
> 
> Wyatt makes a discovery.

Weeks went by. Rufus was still gone. Connor and Jiya were working with a drive that was admirable to the rest of the team, an intensity that clearly reflected the love they had for Rufus. Luckily, Rittenhouse was atypically inactive. They made a few jumps, to events like Pearl Harbor, Amelia Earhart’s flight, and the Battle of Antietam (they REALLY seemed to want to change the result of the Civil War), but whether it was due to Emma’s injuries from Chinatown or a regrouping within the evil organization, late spring was quiet for the Time Team. They spent all their time in the bunker, and while Denise tried her best to bring fun and a change of pace to her colleagues (Scattergories night ended badly when the Team discovered that Wyatt was capable of dragging down even a board game as he exploded in anger when the others kept using big words he claimed were made up), they were beginning to feel stir crazy.

Soon after their return from Chinatown, Lucy essentially moved into Flynn’s room permanently. Despite the empty bed in Jiya’s room, Lucy claimed she didn’t want to intrude on Jiya’s grief for the man she had loved so dearly. Lucy and Flynn had each discovered that they were actually able to string together a few hours of sleep in a row when they did not sleep alone, although they chose to keep their sleeping arrangement a secret from Wyatt. They did not anticipate him taking it so well.

“Are you sure this is OK?” Lucy asked Flynn, the day he snuck down the hall to his room with her meager possessions and helped her arrange them on a bookshelf and in a drawer he had thoughtfully cleared out for her. “You can still back out.”

“Lucy, we talked about this,” Flynn replied, his voice soft as he pulled all of Lucy’s books out of a crate. “I enjoy the company. And you know I’ve been sleeping better with you here.”

Lucy blushed. “Be that as it may, I’ve stolen one of your drawers AND your bed,” she said, hanging her flowered robe on a hook by the door. “How can you possibly be sleeping well? You’re contorting yourself into that tiny chair night after night. Denise is going to have to call in a chiropractor for you.”

Flynn appeared thoughtful, then responded, “Keep in mind, Lucy, that with the exception of a few shared hotel rooms in the past with my old colleague Karl, I’ve slept alone since my family was murdered. Four years sleeping alone for a man used to sharing a bed for almost ten years is surprisingly difficult.” His gaze shifted off of Lucy and he paused for a few seconds before turning his attention back to her. “Having someone nearby seems to keep the nightmares mostly at bay.”

Lucy gave him a look of sympathy. “I’m glad I can help with that, at least. You can wake me whenever you have a nightmare, you know. You don’t have to be alone with them.” Flynn smiled and nodded in return. “Karl was your…assistant… with you in Paris, right?” Lucy asked, wanting to put a face to the name. When Flynn nodded, she teased him, “Did you sleep better with Karl there?” She was interested to hear more about Flynn’s life when the team was chasing him through time.

Flynn snorted. “Hardly. The man’s snoring could wake the dead,” he laughed. “Plus, he smoked. I much prefer sharing a room with you,” he said with a small smile on his face. “You smell better.” He seemed to realize what he had just said, and after a few seconds of nothing but his face getting more and more red, he all of a sudden found the task of arranging Lucy’s books to be the most fascinating endeavor he had undertaken in a long while.

Lucy stared at him. “Well thank you,” she replied, looking awkward all of a sudden. “Uh… I’ll go see if the coffee is ready,” she stammered, turning to leave the room, and walking into the door in her embarrassment. “I’m OK!” she called behind her, walking down the hallway and waving her hand in the air. She could hear Flynn laughing quietly at her clumsy departure.

They made no fuss about their new arrangement with their bunker mates, despite the fact that it was innocuous with Flynn continuing to sleep like a human pretzel in the chair. Even after Lucy told him to stop being so chivalrous and to join her in the bed, which she had to repeat every night for a week before Flynn could be convinced that she meant it, he proved himself to be most respectable by positioning his body at the very edge of the narrow bed and allowing Lucy most of the bed space. And in this manner, they both were able to sleep better than either had for months.

Lucy had thought in the days after Chinatown, where Flynn had seemed about to confess something sacred to her, where he had held her together when she had nearly fallen apart, that perhaps he cared more for her than he would a teammate he simply wanted to protect. But after the team’s return from Chinatown, she had struggled with a heavy sadness over the loss of not only Rufus, but her mother as well, and exploring her relationship with Flynn had to be set aside. Even so, he was with her constantly during that time, ready with a reassuring touch to the arm, a sarcastic quip, or a cup of coffee, whenever she needed them. As the weeks went by, Flynn never brought up what had transpired between them in the alley, never followed up on what he had been about to tell her when Wyatt had interrupted them in the photo studio, and with each passing day, Lucy felt more awkward at the thought of bringing it up herself. The moment had long passed on this one, she told herself. Besides, the man continued to wear his wedding ring, and while Lucy could not fault him for this at all, it was a constant reminder of his enduring love for his family, a family he clearly remained devoted to and a wife he clearly still loved. Despite this, Lucy knew she needed him, that he was there for her, and for now, that was enough.

While Flynn and Lucy enjoyed the benefits of their friendship, Wyatt mostly stayed to himself. He spent most of his time in his room, in the kitchen (only eating, never cooking), or watching car races on tv when they were on. He was angry, very angry, at losing Jessica and his unborn child to Rittenhouse. Immediately following the team’s return from Chinatown, Denise started to look for another safe house for the team, as she feared their current living situation had been compromised by Wyatt bringing Jessica there. But Wyatt swore on his favorite jean jacket that he had never actually allowed Jessica to see her surroundings when he brought her to the bunker. Denise was ready to ignore the unreliable soldier and continue her search for a new residence for the team, but when Lucy remembered Wyatt blindfolding Jessica when they left and returned to the bunker following their search to find a young JFK, Denise backed off. The team was relieved, glad they wouldn’t have to move and encouraged in a way that Wyatt had not been a 100% disaster in the days and weeks surrounding Jessica’s return. They tried reaching out to him to bring him back into the daily grind of bunker life, eager for things to more closely resemble normal in their interactions with him, but despite their efforts, he continued to lash out at anyone who tried talking to him. Finally, the team gave up and just avoided him as best they could.

This included Lucy. It was unlike her, but in her fragile state, she couldn’t handle his anger, and his jealousy, as it was clear to even Wyatt that she and Flynn had been spending more time together. And then one morning, Wyatt happened to walk by Flynn’s room just as Lucy was leaving to make coffee. Blood draining from her face, she stared at her one-time lover in horror, terrified of the outburst she knew was coming. Wyatt did not disappoint.

After a few seconds of eyeing Lucy’s attire as if to confirm his suspicions that she was wearing sleeping garb, Wyatt asked in disbelief, “Did you sleep in Flynn’s room last night, Lucy?”

His face was contorted in such a way that Lucy was reminded of a tuberous potato. Stomach churning, she decided to respond with facts only. “It’s my room, too, Wyatt.” She stood watching him as he clearly expected her to say more, and when she didn’t, his face turned the color of a dirty red barn.

“YOUR ROOM?! What are you THINKING, Lucy?” Wyatt raged, slamming his hand into the wall. “That man is DANGEROUS! You can’t be thinking straight. Come on, I’ll help you move out.” He put his hand on the door knob, ready to invade Flynn’s privacy in an effort to rescue Lucy from him.

Before he could do so, the door was yanked open by Flynn, who had been alerted to Wyatt’s tantrum by his yelling. Sizing up what was happening in half a second, Flynn asked Lucy urgently, “Are you OK?” She gave him a small nervous nod, grateful for his intervention, and he told her, “I’ll be right inside the door. Please yell if you need me.” Fixing Wyatt with a stare that made the shorter man avert his eyes, Flynn stepped back into the room.

Feeling more courageous now that Flynn was aware of the tension in the hallway, Lucy snapped back, “What are you talking about, Wyatt? You think FLYNN is dangerous? Quite frankly, I feel more scared with you right now than I ever did with him!” She watched in satisfaction as Wyatt angrily moved his mouth, wanting to reply, but too surprised to say anything. She continued, “What makes him dangerous, Wyatt? The time he stranded us in the past so we’d stop interfering with his efforts to take down Rittenhouse? The time he “kidnapped” me in Chicago and then took me to a magic show and out for a beer to try to explain to me why he was doing what he was doing? You realize Flynn was fighting the right bad guy all along, don’t you? While WE were essentially working for Rittenhouse? And you DO realize that this all happened over SIX MONTHS AGO!” Lucy started off calmly, but as she continued, her voice got louder and louder. She knew Flynn was aware of what was going on, but she hoped their argument didn’t wake up anyone else.

“He KIDNAPPED you, Lucy! And he had Rufus shot!” Wyatt now looked like a purple potato, his face turned so dark in his anger. It was not a good look for him.

“And guess what else he did, Wyatt?” Lucy’s voice was now quieter, but the iciness made Wyatt step back. “He saved Rufus’s and my lives in Salem when we were seconds away from being hung. Despite Denise not trusting him with a weapon. He literally picked me up and swung me out of the way of a sleeper agent’s bullet in San Antonio. He saved Rufus from being beaten by a cop. In Chinatown, he stopped Emma from beating me to death. The opposite of dangerous, wouldn’t you say? And all that AFTER he joined the Team, so I’m pretty sure he’s on our side at this point. ” She glared daggers at Wyatt, exhausted by his jealousy and anger. “I am sick and tired of having to defend him to you, and I am completely over having to explain why I’m spending time with him,” Lucy sighed. “I’m done. I trust him. I’m a big girl and I’m perfectly capable of deciding who I talk to and where I sleep. That should be enough for you, as it’s literally none of your goddam business.”

“I just want to be sure you're OK,” Wyatt said, seeming to realize he was wrong, eyes pleading. He did not apologize, though.

Lucy raised her eyebrows in shock. “Really?! Why now?! You didn’t seem to care much about that when you brought Jessica into the bunker! You showed your true colors then, Wyatt. But you know what? I’m fine. I'm more than fine, actually.” Lucy gave him a thin-lipped smile and nodded, eyebrows raised with fake friendliness, wanting to be away from him.

And as she pushed past him and strode down the hallway to the kitchen, needing coffee desperately after her run-in with Wyatt, she realized that she actually WAS okay. Since the Team’s return from Hollywoodland, Wyatt had doubled down on his tendencies to be boorish, selfish, jealous, and possessive. His need to control her was sickening. She would always feel a dull ache remembering the rejection she had felt when Jessica returned, but she realized that she was finally over Wyatt himself. And she wondered what she had ever seen in him in the first place.

In the kitchen, her hands were shaking as she started to prepare coffee. Flynn appeared as she filled the pot with water, and exhaled loudly when he saw she was OK. Lucy watched him walk into the room, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as Flynn came over to her and gently pushed her hair out of her face. He looked down at her wordlessly, his hand lingering in her hair. Lucy froze, heart pounding in her chest. She stared up wide eyed at him before smiling and lowering her head. She had come to expect his concern but him touching her was new. As she looked up at him in silence, she realized that her head was tingling where his hand had rested, and she whispered, “Thank you.”

Flynn nodded, then took the coffee pot from her, miraculously unspilled. “I can finish,” he told her, checking the water level. “You should relax. That did not seem like a pleasant way to start your day,” he said. She sank into a chair gratefully, and when Flynn was done, he sat down with her to wait for the coffee to brew.

Lucy was happy to sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, but her mind was anything but quiet. Looking at Flynn from under lowered lashes, she wondered if he had any idea how undone his touch had made her. She wanted him to touch her again. She debated herself for several seconds, then decided to hell with it, and dragged her chair next to his and leaned against his shoulder. Flynn seemed to stop breathing before collecting himself and awkwardly reaching his opposite hand over to pat her arm a few times.

Which is how Wyatt found them when he stalked into the kitchen. Feeling petty, Lucy jumped up just as the coffee finished dripping into the pot. She poured two large mugs for herself and Flynn, and then two more for Connor and Jiya, pouring out the last drop right in front of Wyatt. Lucy swallowed her laughter as Flynn grabbed the coffees meant for the two of them, smirking fairly uncontrollably.She realized he had intentionally made enough coffee for four people only, tired of Wyatt taking coffee made by everyone else, and not once making a pot himself.

Lucy walked the coffee to Connor and Jiya, then returned to the kitchen to witness the show Wyatt was putting on there. She was not at all surprised to see Flynn shaking with quiet laughter as he sat at a table and watched Wyatt angrily try to brew another pot of coffee. She sat next to him, and the two roommates calmly sat sipping their hot drinks as Wyatt cursed at the coffee maker, but as he had never figured out how to use it, he ended up with a pot inexplicably full of dilute coffee and grounds. After verifying that his attempt had been a total failure, Flynn got up and rinsed out the pot before setting the machine to successfully brew one more cup of coffee. Then he and Lucy silently walked from the kitchen, leaving in their wake a seething Wyatt who clearly resented being shown up by Flynn in every way possible these days.


	3. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy wakes up in a rather compromised position. Misunderstandings abound.
> 
> Connor and Jiya gossip about Flynn and Lucy, and Connor begins to plot to get them closer.

“I have to talk to Wyatt,” Lucy murmured to Flynn in their cold bedroom about a week after her encounter with the surly soldier. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Flynn was still sleeping, and smiled at how peaceful his face looked when removed from the worry and pain of the waking world. Compared to the anguish she had seen in his eyes when he had been contemplating killing John Rittenhouse, this look was positively angelic. She made to slide out of bed to head for the bathroom, but discovered that sometime during the night, Flynn’s arm had slid around her waist, and she was now very securely held in place by his strong forearm. She had a small heart attack right there in the bed.

As Lucy gazed at his sleeping form, trying to determine if she could slip out from under him without waking him, Flynn stirred and opened his eyes. “Hey, good morning,” he murmured, accent strong upon awakening.

“Good morning, Flynn,” Lucy whispered. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great. You?”

“Amazing.” She shifted to face him, and watched his eyes widen when he realized his arm was around her. She opened her mouth tell him it was alright, but he had already muttered a hasty apology and pulled his arm back into his own personal space. Lucy sighed.

“Hey, did I hear you say you have to talk to Wyatt?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He must have been half awake when she started talking to him. “Yeah,” she said. “I don’t feel good about how I left things with him. This is the longest we’ve gone without speaking to one another.” She had been surprised with how thoroughly he had frozen her out after their argument in the hallway. “We may as well get along if we’re all going to be stuck in this bunker together.” She looked wistfully away. Life in the Bunker hadn’t been this difficult before Rufus had died.

“You miss the way things used to be with him, don’t you?” Flynn surprised her with his question.

“What?! I mean, yeah.” She grew sad as she realized that Flynn had never known what Wyatt was like as a teammate before Jessica’s return. Wyatt had turned into such a controlling ass after his wife had been brought back from the dead, and he was even worse now that she was gone again. She missed her former friend, but had to tell him that that was all she wanted to be. “He wasn’t always like this.”

Flynn looked away. “OK,” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat. “Makes sense you’d want to talk to him.” He stood up abruptly, and grabbing his shower gear, he left the room.

Lucy stared at the door. What had just happened? She replayed their conversation in her mind, and realized that the mood had changed when he became aware of his arm around her. She worked hard to hold back tears. Had it really been so bad for him to wake up with her in his arms? Then she remembered that that’s exactly how she had woken up in 1941 with Wyatt, and look how poorly things had gone after that. Now alone in the room, she curled up into a ball on the bed and cried in despair. She didn’t think she could go through with Flynn what she had gone through with Wyatt, and she wondered if their current arrangement as roommates was only going to lead to more heartache.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Connor and Jiya had been working around the clock on the Lifeboat, drinking large amounts of coffee, and spending any free time studying the information Future Lucy and Wyatt had brought to them. At first they set a feverish pace, but as days turned into weeks, they settled into a calmer routine. They realized they had no time for making mistakes in haste, so their work took on a more deliberate approach. And as they worked, they talked, usually about technical issues, sometimes about Rufus, but on rare occasion, their conversation shifted to their bunker mates.

“I had another vision,” Jiya revealed to Connor one early June morning, right after a breakfast during which Flynn making blueberry pancakes for the team had been the most exciting culinary event to happen in the bunker kitchen since the team had moved in. The breakfast had also been notable for the unusual silence that hung like a fog over Lucy and Flynn, who usually spent their mornings chatting about books they had both read, historical figures they’d like to meet, or one of the dozens of other interests they shared, while sipping on endless cups of coffee. After finishing their pancakes, Connor and Jiya had not lingered in the awkward environment, choosing instead to get an earlier start on their work for the day.

“A vision?” Connor questioned. “Are you feeling all right?” When Jiya nodded, he continued, “You haven’t had one since Chinatown, have you?” He took down their notes from a shelf and started to flip through the pages.

“I haven’t,” Jiya replied thoughtfully. “I thought it was because my visions seemed to be about Rufus, and now that he’s gone, and I can’t see him anywhere, or in any time…” She shrugged, her big brown eyes filled with sadness. “I thought I was done with them.”She took a deep breath and a sip of her coffee before continuing, “But after breakfast today, I had a vision about Lucy and Flynn. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they’ve been spending their nights together,” she said, glancing casually at Connor to measure his response.

He looked up sharply. “You know, funny you should say that,” he replied. “Right after the Futures left, I sat with Lucy and Flynn in the kitchen. We were all sad and scared and desperately looking for something palatable to eat.” He chuckled as he revealed, “We all ended up eating Cocoa Puffs.” He tipped his head in thought and continued, “But I noticed that day a connection between them I really hadn’t seen before. Nothing obvious, but he took her hands, as a comforting gesture, it seemed, and she definitely seemed to… respond.” He smiled remembering how Lucy had blushed at Flynn’s touch. “I thought maybe there was something to it, but since that day, they’ve seemed no more than friends. I was beginning to think I was imagining things,” he mused, looking to Jiya for more.

“I’m pretty sure they only share a room for companionship,” Jiya continued. “I’ve talked to Lucy about it, and I think she’s being honest with me. Not being alone helps her with her nightmares. They really do seem to have this bond… I can’t explain it. They seem to gravitate towards one another. Usually.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure what was going on with them this morning,” she pondered, thinking back to their rather silent pancake meal, “but after breakfast when I went back to my room, I had a vision about them.”

Connor shifted in his chair, face quizzical. “You sure you’re all right?” He asked Jiya. When she nodded again, he prompted her, “What did you see?”

“Well,” Jiya said, “It was all very hazy, which is unusual for my visions, at least how I remember them from when Rufus was alive,” she said. She paused painfully, closing her eyes. “But I know it was Flynn, and Lucy, and they were standing apart, yet facing one another. Lucy was wearing a beautiful burgundy dress… anyway, I felt this overwhelming need for them to stand closer to one another. Like the distance between them was unbearable to me. Whatever THAT means.” She stared into the distance, eyes unfocused. “But the one thing I was certain of is that if they would just move closer together, we could win this thing. This war against Rittenhouse.”

Connor rubbed his chin. “Was there anything else?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Jiya replied. “There were no real details, just Flynn, Lucy, and a feeling,” she said, starting to push buttons on the Lifeboat’s panels.

Connor chuckled. “That almost sounds like a song,” he said with a smile. “I can’t help but feel that there’s more to their relationship than friendship, but that one or both of them is fearful of that, is holding back,” he confided. “After that one day right after Rufus died when I nearly had myself convinced that we were about to see another bunker romance, it was if they both firmly put themselves in the friend zone, and neither wants to make a first step towards anything more.” He chuckled as he realized what he and Jiya were doing. “We are gossiping like a bunch of schoolchildren,” he smiled to Jiya, who nodded and laughed along with him.

“So true,” she admitted, chuckling. “I just can’t help but wonder if my having a vision this morning, right after we saw them so distant from one another, was like a warning. A warning that we need them to be close and in sync to have any hope of saving Rufus.”

Connor looked thoughtful. “You may be on to something there,” he said. “I seem to recall Rufus mentioning that when the team was chasing Flynn, he often referred to a promised future of him and Lucy as ‘quite the team’.” He ran his hands over his face. “Let’s get to work, but I want to think on this a bit.” He found the page he was looking for in their notebook of equations and pushed it towards Jiya. “If your vision means what you think it does, we need to keep our friends in a good place.”

Jiya hummed her agreement, wondering what Connor could possible have in mind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Flynn sprayed disinfectant spray on the kitchen tables and wiped them clean. He sighed with boredom, not minding the tedious task, but acutely feeling Lucy’s absence. The two of them usually cleaned up together after Flynn cooked, and he would have loved to have laughed with her as they swept up the sizable pile of pancake crumbs under Wyatt’s chair. Today, however, he knew that Lucy had followed Wyatt to his room, finally ready to try to make things right after their blowup argument the week prior. Flynn knew that it was unlike Lucy to wait so long, weeks in this case, to address something important with a friend, or whatever it was Wyatt was to her, but he suspected that Wyatt’s anger and jealousy issues were off-putting to her, making him unpleasant to be around. Despite all this, Flynn couldn’t shake a nagging insecurity.

Unbeknownst to Lucy, after Rufus died, Flynn had actually overheard Wyatt tell her that he loved her, and although Lucy had not verbally returned the sentiment, Flynn hadn’t been able to see her face to gauge her reaction. For all he knew, she had been delighted to hear it. It was this lack of information that had made him hesitate to show her any more affection following what he increasingly saw as a mistake when he took her in his arms in that Chinatown alley. He certainly wasn’t going to bring up the alley to her now, or the conversation Wyatt had interrupted on the mission when Lucy had asked him why he was with the team.

Flynn sighed, slowly blowing air out of his mouth and trying to center his thoughts. He felt ridiculous. So effective at dispatching enemies, he knew he was absolutely out of his league dealing with Lucy and how he felt about her. He respected her completely. She was always so strong and selfless for others, but in the weeks they had been sharing a room, Flynn had seen how fragile Lucy could be. He loved all the time they had been spending together in the bunker, and had taken advantage of this to actually get to know the flesh and blood Lucy who had chosen him as a roommate. He blushed as the memory of her small waist under his arm that morning made him weak in the knees. It was the first time they had touched while sharing a bed, a small miracle given how narrow it was, and Flynn could barely remain standing every time he thought about it. Yet despite all of this, sharing time together and secrets and A BED, he felt completely unworthy of her, as if his past actions in fighting Rittenhouse had made him undeserving of any future happiness. Frustrated, he threw the wet paper towel into the trash with exaggerated force. He would need to be more careful with Lucy in the future, or he’d move to the couch. He didn’t want to impose on her if what she really wanted was to try to patch things up with Wyatt.

She had definitely seemed distant at breakfast. Flynn knew what had happened between them in Hollywood, and he could not stop his mind from imagining the same thing happening in Wyatt’s room right now. Sighing, he finished cleaning up the last of Wyatt’s mess, poured two cups of coffee, and strode silently from the kitchen. He wanted to be in their room with the door cracked in case Lucy needed him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucy closed the door to Wyatt’s room quietly, although her every impulse was screaming for her to slam it behind her. She was relieved to have gotten that unpleasant conversation out of the way, but now she was left with a nasty taste in her mouth as Wyatt did NOT react well at all to her telling him that she only wanted to be friends. The man had actually thought that her distance from him over the last few weeks had simply been her grieving Rufus’s death, that when she was ready, she would seek him out to pick up where they had left off after Hollywood. Lucy clenched her fists in anger. He really must think she had no self respect if he thought that she’d ever be okay being any man’s second choice, especially a man who had jealously treated her as his property even as he shacked up with his resurrected wife. 

Lucy walked down the hall towards her room, stopping abruptly as she realized how nice it was to think of Flynn’s room as her own. As their room. The thought pulled up the corners of her mouth and infused heat into her cheeks even as she tried to will it away. She had to. She sighed. Right now, all she wanted was to tellFlynn what had transpired in Wyatt’s room, to talk to him as her closest friend and confidante, and to drink some of the coffee that was clearly waiting for her in their room based on the strong aroma wafting down the hall from the open door. But instead, wrapping her arms tightly around her, she changed direction and walked to the kitchen to make her own coffee. If being so close to her was that hard for Flynn, she’d have to give him the distance he wanted.


	4. Pizza, Manestra, and Biryani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has a laugh over pizza at Wyatt's expense.
> 
> Flynn teaches Lucy how to make one of his favorite Croatian dishes.
> 
> Denise treats the Team to her mother's biryani.
> 
> Connor finally puts his plan into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must have been hungry while writing this chapter, as most of the "scenes" involve food.

The night after Lucy’s disastrous conversation with Wyatt and her uncomfortable interaction with Flynn, the Team gathered in the bunker kitchen for dinner. Denise had promised them takeout, but when they saw she'd brought pizza yet again, they let out a collective groan. “Has all food besides pizza vanished during our stay underground?” Connor moaned. Lucy, Flynn, and Jiya looked as if he had taken the words right out of their mouths.

“What’s wrong with pizza?” Wyatt demanded, cheese falling from his lips as he shoved half a slice into his mouth all at once. Lucy wrinkled her nose in disgust, and Jiya looked away, not wanting to see another “bite” disappear into his greasy maw. Connor was stunned to realize that Wyatt was already on his third slice, having not seen him demolish the first two.

“Pizza’s okay,” Lucy admitted, neatly serving herself a slice of veggie. “I like anything Italian.” Without even seeming to think about it, she served another onto a plate and held it out to Flynn. “But what I really miss after all these months is good pasta with lots of garlic and sauce, nice heavy Italian food.”

“I’m with Lucy,” Flynn said, raising his eyebrows with a small questioning smile as he accepted the pizza from her. “I miss eggplant parmesan, and ribollita, and…”

“Carbonara!” Lucy exclaimed, dreamily imagining one of her favorite foods.

“Wow”, Denise laughed, “I had no idea you all were such foodies!”

“Oh yeah,” Wyatt said, now on slice number six, and barely able to get the words out around the large food bolus that was visible in his mouth. “I really like all the meats.”

The rest of the team looked at him and rolled their eyes, trying hard not to laugh at the man who would literally eat a sock if it had enough ketchup on it. They all failed miserably, and real laughter bounced around the bunker for the first time in months. Unable to take a joke, Wyatt stormed off to his room, ramming slice seven into his angry mouth and slice eight, inexplicably, into his pocket.

Lucy could barely be bothered to care about what Wyatt was mad about now. She had felt a wave of relief surge through her as the tension between her and Flynn had seemed to dissipate with their shared nostalgia for good Italian food. The last two days had been terrible in the bunker. With Flynn keeping his distance, Wyatt making himself scarce whenever he saw her, and Connor and Jiya seemingly so wrapped up in their work that they couldn’t even make it to the kitchen for meals, Lucy had had a lonely time of it. Now she joined Flynn as he made to leave the room, and the two tentatively continued their longing conversation about their favorite Italian foods.

As silence fell upon the kitchen, Connor thoughtfully rolled his lower lip between his fingers as he watched the two retreat to their room, an idea beginning to take shape in his mind…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A few weeks later, the first official day of summer was nearly upon them, and the Team was still suffering from bunker boredom. Connor and Jiya seemed to be spending even more time working on the Lifeboat, although there were times Lucy was nearly positive that they stopped talking whenever she entered a room, and Flynn sometimes felt they were staring at him, but he never caught them in the act. Denise split her time between the bunker and home, Rittenhouse’s slow pace allowing her to spend more time with her family. And Wyatt spent his time either locked in his room or channel surfing, showing a sliver of excitement only when he was able to find some sort of car race on TV. He usually sat alone watching them, as no one else in the bunker could even pretend to be interested.

One day in mid-June, about one month after Chinatown, Lucy and Flynn were in the kitchen together cooking. The sight of Lucy involved in any sort of food preparation rendered her bunker mates speechless, as none of them would forget anytime soon the JFK sandwich debacle. She herself usually recognized her limitations and focused her culinary efforts on cleaning up after meals. Today, however, out of boredom and a desire to see Flynn’s self-professed talents in the kitchen for herself, she took him up on his offer to teach her how to make one of his favorite Croatian dishes, a bean soup called manestra. Lucy smiled as Flynn explained to her that usually the taste of the soup was enhanced with cured meats, but since his family had been vegetarian, he had found other ways to boost the flavor of the soup. Apparently Lorena had loved meat, but had been willing to go without while at home. Like Lucy, she had been a disaster in the kitchen, and Flynn had happily assumed all cooking responsibilities for the family.

Flynn was a patient teacher who quickly accepted the fact that Lucy knew next to nothing about cooking, and taught her a few basic techniques that she could use nearly anytime she was in the kitchen. Lucy enjoyed the lesson, but every now and then, when he stood closer to her than usual, or when his voice became deeper or more gravelly, or when he broke his concentration to smile at her, her knees became weak and she promptly forgot everything she had been doing. Her efforts to protect herself from heartache were clearly not going as planned.

As he was showing her how to mash together garlic and parsley to form a paste, Wyatt walked into the kitchen. Lucy glanced over at him, annoyed at the interruption mainly because he made it a point to glare at Flynn every time they were in the same room together. Flynn gave the shorter man a dismissive look before turning back to Lucy and lifting a small spoonful of the fragrant paste to her mouth to try. “Wow!” Lucy exclaimed, “This is so good!” Her eyes spoke her excitement to Flynn, but she sighed as Wyatt banged through the kitchen cabinets, apparently looking for a snack to munch on while he was watching the NASCAR race he had been telling everyone about for days. He even seemed to consider a too ripe banana on the counter, and Lucy choked back laughter when she realized it was same damn banana she had almost eaten nearly a month ago.

Lucy watched as Flynn scraped the paste into the crockpot to which he had added beans and the rest of the soup ingredients. He handed her a wooden spoon, and she laughed as she stirred the contents of the pot. “Are you sure you trust me to mix this, Garcia?” Both Flynn and Wyatt froze.

“I do… trust you… Lucy,” Flynn managed, eyes wide. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth again to speak, but nothing came out.

“Oh!Ah, ok, good,” Lucy gasped, realizing what she had said and now wanting to crawl into one of the kitchen cabinets to hide. Lowering her head, she stirred the soup as if her life depended on it, and splashed liquid all over the counter and her shirt.

“OK, Lucy, I’ll take that,” Flynn laughed, gently taking the spoon from her. “We can let the soup cook now. It’ll take a few hours. We can come back later to make salads and to slice the bread, but let’s go get you a clean shirt.”

“Yeah, OK,” Lucy replied, catching her lower lip with her teeth nervously. She glanced down, blushing, but her gaze was drawn immediately back to Flynn. Wyatt let out an exasperated sound and stalked out of the kitchen, but Lucy and Flynn had gotten pretty good at ignoring him at this point. After Flynn made sure the lid to the crockpot was on securely, they walked back to their room. Sitting on the couch, Wyatt watched them disappear down the hallway, wondering what the hell he had just witnessed.

And Connor Mason, stepping around the corner to get coffee for himself and Jiya, smiled at the retreating figures of Lucy and Flynn, eager to finally put his plan in motion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~

And then it was time. June was nearly at an end. Denise, still trying to lighten up the lives of her bunker babies underground, had arranged for a feast of sorts for the first official day of summer, bringing home-cooked Indian food to the bunker. “The portions aren’t huge, since I had to get it all here myself,” she apologized, “but I thought it was time for you all to finally try my mother’s biryani.” Everyone was delighted except for Wyatt, who claimed that the food was too spicy and “tasted funny.” His reward for his rude comments was getting to spend the next hour in the bathroom, a victim of a weak GI system that wilted when faced with too much fiber. After dinner, with Wyatt in the bathroom, the team spent a lovely evening in the common area sharing stories of summers long ago. Lucy sipped on her Moscato and told of summer nights on her family’s front porch with her parents and sister, her father pointing out constellations and her mother drinking wine. Jiya recalled summer camps with her friends which had led to lifelong friendships. And Flynn made even Denise tear up when he shared the story of his daughter’s first swim lesson, and how she would only ever get in the water if her daddy was in the pool as well.

After finishing three bottles of wine, the team began to head off to bed. Jiya and an exhausted dehydrated Wyatt were the first to leave, then Denise put on her sweater and headed home to her family. Lucy and Flynn remained sitting next to one another on the couch, Flynn’s arm lightly resting on the cushion behind her, but each firmly in their own personal space. Connor sighed, then shook his head with a smile, and stood up to leave.

“Good night, you two,” he said lightly, walking toward the hallway to the bedrooms. He turned at the corner to make sure Lucy and Flynn stayed where they were, and when he was convinced they weren’t moving for a while, he reached into his pocket and stepped quietly into the darkness.

Lucy stared at Connor’s retreating figure until she could no longer see him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Flynn doing the same, each staring desperately after Connor Mason as if his retreat into the darkness were the most interesting thing they had ever seen. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, not wanting the evening to end, but neither trusting themselves to not say something awkward. Lucy’s heart was pounding in her chest, and she was certain that Flynn must be able to hear it, evidence of her now daily struggle to be alone with him yet to say nothing about the feelings she could no longer deny. Flynn turned halfway towards Lucy, then faced straight forward again, opened his mouth, then shut it. His arm fell gently onto her shoulder for a fraction of a second before he jerked it back up to its proper place on the back of the couch and cleared his throat. Lucy gave a start and nearly whimpered out loud when Flynn removed his arm, then closing her eyes for a moment to settle her nerves, she stood and offered a hand to Flynn. Smiling at him as she hauled him to his feet, Lucy took half a dozen steps before realizing that she was still holding his hand. She stopped and stared at where her hand hung enveloped by his, and her heart clenched when she saw his wedding ring on his fourth finger. Taking a deep breath to clear her mind and ignoring Flynn’s quizzical look, Lucy withdrew her hand then walked down the hall with him to their room. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As soon as Lucy got back to the bedroom, she grabbed her robe and pushed her arms into its sleeves as she rushed off to the bathroom to brush her teeth. This dormitory-reminiscent routine was getting old to her, bringing her toiletries in a bucket with her to the bathroom, having to share hot water. But she needed to get out of their room for a few minutes to collect herself. She was acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush, for crying out loud. She blew at a stray piece of hair as she jammed her free hand into her pocket, then frowned as she withdrew it holding a cream colored envelope.

At the same time, back in their room, Flynn was pulling an identical envelope from the book he had been reading, where it had been inserted in place of his usual bookmark. Curious, he turned it over in his hands and saw his full name in burgundy calligraphy on the front. “Mr. Garcia Flynn”.

Staring at the “Dr. Lucy Preston” in beautifully lettered burgundy calligraphy on the envelope’s front, Lucy turned it over and slid her finger under the tab, finding a classy burgundy lining inside the envelope. She pulled out a card in thick ivory stock and was surprised to see it was an invitation.

“A dinner party?” Flynn turned the invitation over and over in his hands to try to find some clue as to who had delivered it. He didn’t find a thing, nevertheless, he found himself growing excited at the prospect of something different to look forward to here in the bunker. Maybe Denise had started to feel sorry for the team and wanted to do something nice for everyone. Flipping the invitation over again to look at the front, he read aloud:

“ _The honor of your presence is requested at the Bunker Kitchen, on Friday, June 22, 2018, for dinner and cocktails at 7:00 pm._

_Dress is semi-formal; arrangements will be made for the delivery of your attire._

_Please speak of this to no one, as only some, or even none, of your bunker mates have been invited._ ”

Lucy frowned thoughtfully, curious and excited, and willing to go along with whatever this was to have an evening of fun. Was this something Flynn was planning? Was Denise up to something? Or… oh God, was Wyatt trying to get her alone for some one-on-one time? Lucy’s nerves crept in and she began to doubt just how much fun this dinner was actually going to be.

She brushed her teeth and washed her face, then slowly walked back to her room. Schooling her face to a smile, she pushed open the door and found Flynn quietly reading in his chair. “Hey,” he smiled, carefully placing his original bookmark to mark his page. “You going to bed?”

“Hi. Yeah.” Lucy gave him a small grin as she looked at him out of the corner of her eyes as she removed her robe. COULD this dinner be all Flynn? But how? Tomorrow night could not get here fast enough so she could stop second guessing. Lucy was not a patient person when it came to surprises. She sat down on the bed, then looked up to find Flynn staring at her with a dazed look on his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned that maybe he wasn’t feeling well. Or maybe he had finally realized that she had overstayed her welcome in his room…

“It’s nothing” he replied, then as she raised one eyebrow at him skeptically, he admitted, “It’s just… you’re wearing less to bed tonight than you usually do.” He cleared his throat at stared at the wall behind her with great interest.

Lucy looked down at her tank top and shorts, and as the seemingly ever-present redness crept into her cheeks, she said in a low voice, “Well, it IS summer now, and it’s been warmer at night. Especially sharing such a small bed.” She ended nearly in a whisper, still looking at her bare legs.

Flynn cleared his throat again. “I can sleep in the chair… if you’ve been hot,” he offered.

“What? No!I mean, that”s not necessary,” Lucy exclaimed. God, he must think she wasn’t comfortable sleeping with him anymore. Wait. GAH! Not SLEEPING with him sleeping with him… Lucy tried to shut off her thoughts and failed spectacularly. She slid over against the wall and fell onto her pillow. “I’ll be perfect in a tank” she said, then gasped quietly as Flynn reached over to pull the sheets up over her.

“Just promise me you’ll let me know if you get too warm,” Flynn said kindly, pushing her hair gently off her forehead.

“I… I will,” Lucy whispered. She knew she was hopeless at this point, achingly yearning for more with this man who treated her with so much kindness and respect. She knew, however, that she had to accept the fact that anything more than friends happening between them was hopeless. His loyalty to his wife and child was admirable and sweet, and sadly, made him more appealing to her as it continued to keep her a distance away from him. She sighed, then murmured a good night to the man reading in bed next to her, hoping the mystery event tomorrow was something both of them would get to enjoy.


	5. Caesar salad and Ribollita

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor Mason's blind date for Lucy and Flynn begins. Let the wine and conversation flow!

The next day was fairly quiet for everyone with the exception of Connor and Jiya, who seemed to be flitting about the bunker nonstop. Lucy actually managed to take an afternoon nap, and when she awoke, wondered in surprise why she felt so refreshed before she detected the presence of the hot Croatian in bed next to her. She lay there watching him sleep for a few moments before she started to feel creepy and left the room to take a quick shower. Then at 5:30 PM, as instructed by her invitation, she reported to the room she used to share with Jiya.

“Can you believe this, Lucy?” Jiya beamed as she walked in, holding up a knee length black dress with one hand and a pair of nude pumps with the other.“This dress is gorgeous, and it looks like it'll fit perfectly!” She twirled around with the dress held in front of her, and Lucy started at her, mouth agape.

“I… Oh!” Lucy exclaimed, part relieved, part disappointed, as it appeared that Jiya was attending tonight’s party as well. Lucy settled on relieved, since it now seemed highly unlikely that tonight had anything to do with Wyatt trying to woo her with a steak and potatoes dinner for two set to country music. On the other hand, this also meant the evening hadn’t been orchestrated by Flynn, which, if she was being honest with herself, was kind of (very) disappointing. Lucy laughed with Jiya, walking over to the wardrobe in the room and removing a dress bag labelled with her name. “Someone went through an awful lot of trouble for… whatever tonight is!” she exclaimed. “Do you know who else is going to this party tonight? Is Agent Christopher showing us pity and giving us all a night to remember?” Lucy giggled.

“I’m certain it will be memorable,” Jiya responded, smiling at Lucy.

“Yeah,” Lucy murmured absently, as she removed the plastic cover from a dark red dress beneath. She gasped. It was beautiful, and as with Jiya’s, was her size exactly. She removed the short strapless dress from its hanger clips and held it up to her chest. “What do you think?” she asked Jiya, getting increasingly more excited to get ready for tonight’s soiree with her friend.

“That color is going to be amazing on you!” Jiya squealed, and the two women looked at one another and laughed.

“We’ve really needed something like this, haven’t we?” Lucy asked.

“We really have,” Jiya agreed, watching as Lucy stepped out of her bunker attire and into her dress. “Can I zip you up?” She stepped behind Lucy and worked the zipper up to the top. “OK, turn around, lemme see,” she instructed her friend.

“One sec,” Lucy said. She reached for the strappy heeled sandals that had come with the dress. Sliding them on, she turned to face Jiya. “How do I look?”

Jiya clasped her hands together in delight. “You look perfect!” She stepped back to get a better look at Lucy. “Maybe some soft curls, a bracelet or two, the right makeup… it will be so romantic!”

“Romantic?” Lucy questioned, running her hands down the front of the dress. She wasn’t sure how romantic a team dinner party could really be with everyone there.

“Lucy, you can look romantic even when spending an evening with friends,” Jiya assured her.

Lucy looked skeptically at Jiya for half a second longer, then with a shrug, stepped over to her to return the favor with the zipper of her dress. “These dresses are certainly a step up from our usual bunker attire,” Lucy giggled, and then for the next hour, devoted herself to enjoying all the primping that went into getting ready for this unprecedented evening of fun. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

An hour later, hair and makeup done, Lucy stood next to the door of Jiya’s room in her burgundy dress and took a deep breath. Her nerves got the better of her and she paused, trying to compose herself, but it was as if her insides were engaging in an unwelcome wrestling match.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Jiya asked, seeming to Lucy almost as nervous as she. “It’s almost 7:00 - let’s get out there!”

Lucy let out her breath shakily, laughing. “I feel like I’m on my way to the prom!” she exclaimed.

Jiya raised her eyebrows at Lucy. “Well, I have a feeling you'll catch the eye of every handsome single guy at that prom.” She walked over to Lucy and gripped her hand in a quick squeeze. “You look amazing. Now let’s go have fun.” And the two women pulled open the door together.

The hallway outside Jiya’s room was nearly unrecognizable. Lucy gasped. The entire corridor was lit in soft twinkling lights that were strung its entire length. Soft jazz music was playing in the distance. She looked back at Jiya in amazement and found her friend with the same wide eyes and smile on her face she suspected were on her own. Taking Jiya’s hand, partly for camaraderie and partly for support, Lucy walked slowly down the hallway, lights twinkling around her. Whatever the reason for this dinner party, it seemed it would be a classy affair. Lucy’s anticipation grew as her heart started pumping in her chest. Who else would be there? With Jiya by her side, Lucy knew the party was not some forced effort on Wyatt's part to spend time alone with her. Still, she hoped that when she stepped into the kitchen, he wouldn’t be there. Realizing a half second too late that Jiya had let go of her hand and was walking behind her, Lucy was all of a sudden in the kitchen.

And all her panicked thoughts about Wyatt fled as there, standing tall, dark, and illegally handsome in a black suit, hands behind his back as he softly conversed with Connor, stood Flynn.

Lucy stared wide-eyed at the man before her. Appearing to sense her gaze upon him, Flynn turned to face her and it was as if the world fell away. He was also wearing a dark red tie, and some part of Lucy’s brain registered that it matched her dress. He seemed to drink her into the depths of his eyes. The two gazed unabashedly at one another, each hungrily taking in the sight of the other dressed to the nines in well-fitting modern apparel. Lucy felt as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks, and was now feasting not for survival, but for pure enjoyment.

Flynn’s eyes danced over her and she gasped. “Lucy.” Goddam his voice was low and so impossibly sexy. “You look good.” She smiled remembering the same humble compliment he had paid to the memory of a future version of herself. Without seeming to realize what he was doing, Flynn reached out to take Lucy’s hands in his, and she shivered. With the soothing sensuous music of Bebel Gilberto surrounding them, Flynn wearing the hell out of his suit and smelling like Irish Spring and sandalwood, and now his calloused thumbs rubbing her knuckles, the sensory overload was delicious. She stared up at him wordlessly, unable to speak.

The sound of a throat clearing snapped Lucy out of her revery, and Flynn, too, as he dropped her hands and took a step back. Lucy had to force her eyes to focus, and when they finally did, it was on a very smug-appearing Connor Mason. And next to him was Jiya, who seemed to be trying to mimic Connor’s look, but was failing due to the genuine smile that lit up her face.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Guys? What’s going on?” She looked around. “Where’s everyone else?”

Flynn shifted his feet but did not say a word. However, he glanced at Connor with a wary look on his face, almost as if he was afraid to hear the answer.

“Actually, it’s just the two of you. We,” Connor waved his hand between himself and Jiya, “thought you two might enjoy an evening “out”, with wine and Italian food. Italian food that’s not pizza, that is.”

Lucy covered her mouth to hide her amusement at his air quotes, then looked to where he was pointing and her eyes widened as they fell upon a table covered with sparkling glassware through which candlelight danced in the dim lighting. It was beautiful.

“But… why?” she asked.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Flynn looked from Lucy to Connor and Jiya in shared curiosity. He, too, wanted to know why they had apparently orchestrated an entire dinner party for Lucy and him alone, in a bunker kitchen that currently looked nothing like its former dingy self. With warm gold lights strung above the dining area, the tables covered in red and white checked tablecloths and shimmering glassware, and candles and hanging lanterns replacing the sterile fluorescent lights that usually provided a gloomy glow to the room, the bunker kitchen legitimately looked like an Italian restaurant. Connor had even set up a screen to hide the stove and some of the stainless steel shelves, while adjacent shelving had been turned into a small bar. And it didn’t escape Flynn’s notice that the music was setting a rather romantic mood, particularly when paired with the candlelight. Flynn hadn’t had a nice dinner like this in over four years, and regardless of Connor and Jiya’s motives, he appreciated their efforts. He appreciated even more the woman they had chosen to be his companion for the evening, and as the first notes of "O Sole Mio" began to play through the room, he realized what an apt song it was for the moment as he stood with the woman who truly was his sun. 

“So… why us?” he asked, eyes glancing between Connor and Jiya.

To Flynn’s surprise, it was Jiya who answered. “I had another vision,” she admitted, “and it had to do with the two of you.”

Flynn looked sharply at her. “And you’re just telling us about it now?” For G-d's sake, the people in this bunker held onto their secrets tighter than Wyatt held onto the remote during a NASCAR race.

To her credit, Jiya had the decency to look embarrassed. “It had nothing to do with a specific mission, like it always seemed to with Rufus,” she said. “It was more a general feeling.”

“A feeling?” Lucy had her hands on her hips, and damn, she looked good in that dress. Flynn couldn’t help his gaze from lingering, and he knew he was caught when Lucy looked at him questioningly. A small smile played upon her lips, and she unconsciously ran her hands down the sides of her dress, a beautiful dress with floral detailing that was the perfect shade of burgundy, a color he seemed to gravitate towards any time he -

“Flynn!”

He tore his eyes away from Lucy to find Connor and Jiya staring at him in amusement, and now he’d been caught staring at Lucy by every person here. With a quick look around, Flynn cleared his throat and said blandly, “You were talking about a feeling, Jiya?”

Jiya smirked. “Yes. A feeling. I had this vision right after you guys seemed to be fighting a few weeks ago.”

Flynn remembered all too well. He and Lucy had had two days of barely speaking to one another while he gave her space following her talk with Wyatt, two days during which all his feelings of inadequacy had tripled. Those feelings now diminished, he still didn’t know what had been discussed between Lucy and Wyatt during their conversation. _We still need to talk about that, don’t we?_ He looked up at Jiya, raising an eyebrow in question. “Yes, I remember.”

Lucy looked like she was not at all eager to hear about Jiya’s vision, but asked anyway, “What was it about?” She looked as nervous as he felt to hear the answer, and he wanted desperately to reach out to take her hand again. 

Jiya continued, “It wasn’t bad. It seemed more like a warning. I saw a hazy image of the two of you standing apart from one another, and I wanted you to be closer. I felt certain that if you were, it would somehow help us defeat Rittenhouse. Maybe even save Rufus. I wondered if I’d had the vision because you guys seemed to be giving one another the silent treatment.”

“But what does that have to do with all this?” Flynn asked, gesturing at the lights and candles surrounding them.

Connor stepped forward. “That’s where I come in. Not long after Jiya told me about her vision, and how important it was for the two of you to get along, Denise brought pizza into the bunker, and you two began to talk about all your favorite Italian foods. I was already trying to think of a way to help you get past your little bump in the road, and I thought a nice Italian dinner might do the trick.” He cleared his throat, and seemed to be trying to appear modest, “And so I cooked you one.”

Flynn was stunned. Glancing over at Lucy, he could see she felt the same. Connor Mason, former billionaire, inventor of time travel, had cooked an Italian dinner for Lucy and him?All of a sudden, Flynn felt overwhelmed with surprise and gratitude.

“Connor, I don’t know what to say.” Flynn looked over at Lucy. “This is… unexpected. Thank you.” He smirked. “Although now we know you had an underlying motive.”

Connor waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Ah, well, you’re welcome. And motive or not, you can’t deny that there’s very little that beats a nice Italian dinner. Except maybe the meats.”

The four bunker mates burst into laughter, remembering Wyatt’s words and behavior during the pizza night that had apparently been the inspiration for this meal.

Lucy rolled her eyes at the memory, then smiled.“Connor, this is wonderful.” Stepping forward, she hugged him, and he hesitated only a millisecond before hugging her back. “Thank you.” She moved to stand next to Flynn and to his surprise, she wrapped her hands around his arm and pulled it into her side. He froze, not minding one bit, but also not sure what to do that wouldn't be awkward.

Connor smiled at them. “Are you ready to eat?” He walked over to one of the tables and pulled out a chair. “Lucy?”

Lucy glanced up at Flynn, beaming, and sat down at the table. Flynn sat across from her. They looked up at Connor expectantly.

“I’ve set up a warming station over there,” Connor said, gesturing to what looked like another ivy-covered screen at the far end of the common area. “Jiya and I will be out of your hair, but available if you need anything. Please think of us as your wait staff. We want to give you privacy, so we’ll stay over there, but I’ve set up a little buzzer system so you can ring if you need us.” He indicated what looked like a small doorbell sitting in the middle of the table. “I’ve chosen some music for your da-, er, for your evening. We’ll start with a Caesar salad, followed by a simple ribollita, which if I recall correctly, is a Flynn favorite. And everything is vegetarian.”

Flynn looked up at Connor in amazement. The man must have been taking notes the last few weeks. And did he just almost call this dinner a date? Flynn glanced up at what appeared to be new speakers above the pantry area of the kitchen, speakers that were just finishing "O Sole Mio." “Connor, you've thought of everything. I’m beyond impressed. And grateful. Thank you.”

Connor nodded a smile. “Now can I get either of you a glass of wine?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucy smiled at Jiya as the younger woman poured her a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and saw Flynn’s matching smile when she poured him a Pinot Noir. Lucy and Flynn intently watched Jiya retreat across the room, and were silent until she stepped behind the ivy screen.

Lucy looked over at Flynn. “Can you believe this?” The candlelight cast shadows on his face that highlighted his cheek bones. It was all she could do to not reach out to touch them.

Flynn huffed a laugh. “I’m still in shock. All this for us?” He gestured around the kitchen, then looked down at the table and touched his lips with his tongue. “Did, erm -“ He cleared his throat. “Was Connor about to call this… a date?”

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. So he had noticed too. She hoped he didn’t mind. “I - maybe?” It certainly seemed like a date. A first date, if her excited nerves were any indication. And it couldn’t have been more perfect. She felt attractive for the first time in a long time, and Flynn’s obvious appreciation for her filled her with warmth and confidence. And Flynn looked so good, it was distracting. Lucy had to force her eyes off him to look around the kitchen. Connor had really gone all out to make the bunker resemble an Italian restaurant. After months staring at the same awful stainless steel and fluorescent lights in the kitchen, the candlelight and ivy were a welcome change. She sighed in contentment as a man sang in Italian over the speakers. “No matter what we call it, it feels so nice to pretend we’re somewhere else.”

She found herself leaning towards Flynn as she talked. Always handsome, the man looked outright sinful tonight. Connor Mason had selected a suit for him that seemed to fit him perfectly, accenting his slim but muscular build in such a way, she wouldn’t mind removing it later to further explore… Lucy jumped, spilling some of her wine down her arm as she realized the line of thinking she was pursuing. She laughed nervously, grabbing a napkin to clean herself up.

“You okay?” Flynn really needed to stop looking at her that way. It really did things to her. 

Lucy was given a minute to collect her thoughts when Connor brought out the salads. When he disappeared into his makeshift kitchen, she responded, “I’m more than okay.” She looked around her. “This is so nice.” She was repeating herself. She took a bite of the Caesar salad to hide her embarrassment. “Damn. Flynn, you gotta try this.”

Flynn did as she suggested. “Mmm. Connor Mason is a man of many varied talents, apparently,” he laughed. “How did we not notice him cooking all day?” The two busied themselves with eating their salads, the silence comforting to Lucy in just how comfortable it was. If this actually were a date, she’d be feeling pretty good about it right now, except for the small fact that Connor seemed to feel this grand gesture necessary to help Flynn and her get past their misunderstanding. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Lucy bit her lip and looked over at Flynn, playing carefully in her mind with the words she wanted to say to him, but just then, he sat back and folded his arms across his chest as he seemed to regard her closely. Lucy felt warm under his gaze. “Lucy, I feel like we should address the elephant in the room. That Connor did this because of our little…” He flailed a bit with his hands as he struggled to find the right word, and giving up, he took another sip of his wine. Lucy gaped at him for a second. Once again, it was as if he had been reading her mind. Lucy didn’t quite know what to call it herself. Those two days merely being polite to one another had not been fighting, but they certainly had been... lonely.

“Flynn, can we just be honest with one another? No matter how uncomfortable it feels? Let’s take advantage of this wine, and this dinner, and the candlelight, to get a few things off our chests.” This first course was as good a time as any for them to discuss what had gone down between them two weeks ago, and she hoped that the warm setting Connor had created for them would help ease the conversation.

“Lucy, I’m always honest with you. I’ve never lied to you. But I do tend to, ah, have a hard time expressing myself sometimes.” Flynn looked sheepish as he said this.

Lucy laughed. “I guess I do too,” she said softly. “I mean…that morning I went to talk to Wyatt…” The wine and the ambiance were making this easier, yet she still hesitated. There was so much room here for outright rejection, but she needed to clear the air so they could move past this and enjoy the evening. “You left the room pretty abruptly. It seemed you were upset about something. But I didn’t follow through and talk to you about it.”

Flynn’s face grew sober as he appeared to be remembering. “Lucy, that morning… you talked about Wyatt in a way that made me think you wanted to start over with him, clean slate and such.” He cleared his throat. “Right after we got back from Chinatown, I overheard him telling you he loved you.”

Lucy groaned. She had been trying to forget about that. She’d had no idea Flynn had heard. “Ugh. Flynn, it was awful.”

Just then, Jiya appeared to clear the salad plates and to set in front of them two steaming bowls of soup. Lucy inhaled deeply. “That smells amazing. What is it?”

“This is the ribollita. It’s a bread soup from Tuscany that has beans, kale, cabbage, and a number of other vegetables. It’s delicious - obviously I tried some,” Jiya laughed.

“And garlic,” Lucy breathed, as Jiya walked away. She took a bite. “Oh my G-d,” she said. “It’s incredible.” Taking another bite, she asked, “Flynn, why is this one of your favorite Italian foods?” She looked over at him and smiled to see the look on his face as he tried his first spoonful of the soup. It was as if he were discovering something remembered all over again. He looked so content.

“Ribollita reminds me of my mother,” he explained. “She spent some time in Italy before she had my brother, and she came away from there with the most perfect recipe she used to make for me when I was a child.”

They enjoyed their soup another moment or two until Lucy knew she needed to continue their discussion. She hadn’t been interested in talking about Wyatt while enjoying the first few bites of the little bowl of heaven in front of her. “So you overheard Wyatt… What he did was gross. I was in shock over Rufus, my mom, and he just sat there next to me and made it all about him. He tried to use Rufus’s death as a way to convince me we should be together.”

Flynn’s eyes widened and he exhaled slowly. “Yikes. Lucy, I’ve been so worried all this time. I couldn’t see your reaction, I only heard Wyatt, and I had no idea how you responded. I thought maybe you would want things to go back to how they were before Jessica came back. Give him a second chance. That morning you went to talk to him, you said you missed the way things used to be with him, and I just assumed…” He ran his fingers through his hair and seemed to be considering his words carefully. “I just want you to be happy, Lucy. And maybe I’m overstepping here, but I didn’t think he could be that for you. I left our room that morning because I was afraid of saying too much."

Lucy took one last bite of her soup as she pondered his words. All along, Flynn was just looking out for her, and it made her feel cared for in a way she never had before in her life. But there was more about that day that needed to be shared. She took a deep breath. “When I woke up that morning, you had your arm around me.” Was it her imagination, or was Flynn blushing? “But then you moved away from me really quickly when you realized it. And… I thought it bothered you. To be touching me. Like that.” She ended in a whisper.

Flynn looked stunned. “Bothered? No, Lucy!” He looked surprised. “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage of you. It’s not like you were awake when I did it.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “What was your biggest fear about that?” he asked her. She shook her head, confused. “Sorry, let me rephrase. When I pulled away from you, what was the worst thing you thought that could mean?”

“I… oh.” He hadn’t minded waking up so close to her. She had needed to hear that. She felt embarrassed to admit what she had been thinking, but knew how desperately they needed to open up to one another. “It was the day we got back from Hollywoodland, which is when Wyatt and I… got together… that he got the text message from Jessica and literally ran away from me and left the bunker as we were talking about what had happened between us. And then as you know, didn’t answer his phone for hours.”

Flynn looked confused. “But what does that have to do with me?” he asked.

“Flynn, nothing happened between you and me that night when we woke up like that, but it was the first time we woke up touching one another. I know it didn’t mean anything, but when you pulled away from me, I immediately felt that rejection again.”

And then somehow, inexplicably, Flynn looked at her with so much need and longing and she just didn’t see how he could be looking at _her_ that way and said, “Who said it didn’t mean anything?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "O sole mio" translates roughly to "my own sun", which seems appropriate for how Flynn views Lucy.


	6. Carbonara and Eggplant Parmigiana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn and Lucy finally realize the depth of one another's feelings.

He remembered the day he had proposed to Lorena like it was yesterday. They had talked vaguely of a future together, but had never specifically discussed getting married, whether they would want a long or short engagement, or even if Lorena wanted an engagement ring. One day, he just knew he could no longer not be engaged to her, and he bought a ring, planned the proposal, and proposed all in the same day. And the way he had felt after he had asked Lorena to marry him, all uncertain and scared, was rather akin to how he felt now after opening his fool mouth to Lucy.

Lucy stared at him, her mouth open slightly, eyes wide. He forced himself to meet her gaze, stunned at himself, certain he had said too much. Lucy had opened up to him about feeling rejected so he told her his arm around her, the memory of which still made him weak in the knees, meant something? But then he took it away? He wouldn’t be surprised if she decided to cut this dinner short because of him.

Obviously at that moment, Connor and Jiya came out from their mini kitchen each carrying a tray. They set them down on a nearby table and proceeded to clear the empty soup bowls before distributing the dinners. It all looked and smelled wonderful, but Flynn couldn’t help but feel there was a conspiracy here amongst the bunker mates to interrupt him every time he tried to tell Lucy something meaningful. Lucy, who was still looking at him as if he had just told her he liked NASCAR.

“For you, Lucy, I made a carbonara garnished with tempeh bacon in place of the guanciale, so Flynn can try if he likes.” Connor set the pasta bowl in front of her with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.

“Kind of like Lady and the Tramp,” Lucy joked, then clamped her hand over her mouth and blushed profusely. Flynn would never tire of how adorable Lucy looked when she was embarrassed. _Wait, what did she just say_?

Connor’s face grew smug, and he raised an eyebrow. “If you insist.”

“I –“

“And for you, Flynn,” Connor continued smoothly, talking over Lucy’s protest,“I have eggplant parmigiana. A large portion for sharing, which is good, because it seems that’s what Lucy likes.”

Lucy began to stutter and Connor chuckled and walked away with the soup bowls. Flynn covered his mouth with his hand to hide a smile, and noticed Jiya biting her bottom lip so hard he thought she might draw blood, but truly it was what she deserved for wanting to laugh at their current predicament. She refilled their wine glasses, and then raising her eyebrows in a way that clearly indicated she was enjoying every moment of this, left the bottles on the table and followed Connor.

Flynn knew he had just dropped a bomb on Lucy, and that Connor’s teasing had made the situation worse. If the goal was to be honest with one another, he had to clarify how he felt about her. It should be a little easier now that he knew she wanted nothing to do with Wyatt. At least if she rejected him completely, he’d know it was not that she thought Wyatt was the better man for her. He didn’t think he could recover from that. He knew he had done some horrible things, things he hadn’t forgiven himself for, and if Lucy wanted to only be friends, he’d rather know it was that and not that she thought Wyatt was... better.

But the moment he opened his mouth to tell her, Lucy began to chatter brightly about the food, which although clearly unrelated to their previous conversation, was delicious enough to warrant a conversation all its own. Connor had outdone himself with their entrees. The eggplant parmigiana was bursting with flavor while not being too heavy. As for Lucy’s meal… Flynn thought he’d test the waters a bit. “Any chance I could try your carbonara, Lucy?”

She looked at him silently, her expression unreadable, but the color in her cheeks rising. Flynn thought he had pressed his luck too far, but then she neatly prepared a forkful of pasta and leaned across the table. With her other hand under his chin, she gently lifted her fork to his mouth. And held his eyes the entire time she was feeding him. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?” she asked him softly.

“Perfect. Yes.” His eyes slid over her slim arms which were so close he could touch them if he tried. His fingers twitched as he fought to control the sudden urge to run them along her smooth skin. She was breathtaking. Her light citrusy perfume mingling with the incredible smells of Connor’s meal were intoxicating. And just to make sure the mood was exactly right, Connor’s music selection for the evening had been impeccable. Starting with the jazzy tunes of Bebel Gilberto, and switching to romantic Italian alternating with jazz and soul for soup and dinner, the music made Flynn feel completely removed from the usual drudgery of the bunker. So much so that he felt inspired to revisit their earlier topic of discussion.

“So Lucy-“

“Garcia-“

He inhaled sharply. She had done it again. He briefly closed his eyes as that increasingly familiar warm feeling of belonging coursed through his veins, brought forth by her calling him by his first name.

“Flynn. I’m sorry. Is it too much to call you that?”

“I love it when you call me that.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucy’s heart started beating so fast she thought she might pass out. He _liked_ it when she called him Garcia? Waking up with his arm around her had _meant_ something to him? She was beginning to think he might actually have feelings for her and she didn’t know what to do with that. The idea of someone actually wanting her was so foreign that she couldn’t make herself believe that Flynn just might. And she knew she was staring at him, and she knew she had to stop, but…

“Lucy?” Flynn asked, concern evident on his face.

Lucy looked at him wide eyed for a few more seconds, and she was brought back to Chinatown, with Flynn now looking at her in the exact same way he had in that photo studio when he had struggled to tell her why he was there. That look had haunted her dreams every night since then. She had wanted so badly for him to have answered her question. “Why are you here, Flynn?” she asked him again, her voice barely a whisper, hoping she wasn’t spoiling a wonderful evening but needing to know. She had to know.

Flynn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I was wondering when you were going to get back to that,” he said, clearing his throat and draining his glass of wine. He then sat in silence, staring at his hands which he had folded in front of him.

Lucy watched him struggle to answer her question, finishing her own wine with a gulp and then nodding as Flynn lifted the wine bottle Jiya had left on the table for her. She held out her glass for Flynn to refill, and then repaid the favor for him.

Flynn pulled his chair around the table until he was next to Lucy, then sat leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked so intense. And handsome. Intensely handsome. Handsome in his intensity. Lucy heard the hysteria in the laughter echoing inside her head as she tried to settle her nerves by focusing on his looks and failing miserably. Flynn then took a few deep breaths, and finally meeting her eyes, he said, “Ask me again.”

Lucy took in a shaky breath. What was he playing at? Running her eyes over his face, she repeated, “Why are you here?”

“For you.”

Lucy stopped breathing.

Just then, Connor walked over to the table, his timing impeccable as usual. This time, however, he seemed to pick up on the fact that he had interrupted something important. Stammering, “I’ll just clear your plates and bring out dessert… when you’re ready… please ring the bell…,” Connor did as he said and just about sprinted back to his kitchen. 

Lucy was unable to speak, wanting so badly to believe that Flynn was trying to tell her what she wanted to hear, but still not able to believe that this big tall former adversary of a man was actually still with the team only because of her. She gave a start as Bing Crosby’s “I Wished on the Moon” began to play through the room. She thought back to the car ride she’d shared with Flynn in Texas, and the conversation that had finally begun to knock down the walls between them. They were trying to continue to tear down that wall, but they both struggled so epically to simply use their words.

“Garcia, what do you mean?”

“Lucy, don’t you know?” Flynn looked at her imploringly. His eyes dropped to her mouth, but then meeting her gaze again, he murmured, “I chose you over Rittenhouse in that Chinatown alley. My reason for getting up every morning shifted that day. It’s now you. It’s only you. I… I love you. I think I always have.”

Lucy stared at Flynn. Even after months of caring so deeply for this man, wanting him so badly, she was stunned to hear what she had wanted to hear for so long.She watched her shaking hands reach to take his. He gave them a gentle squeeze, and looked at her fearfully, hopefully. She smiled at him in disbelief, and finally whispered back, “Don’t YOU know? I love you too.”

They stared at one another in amazement. 

“Oh my G-d, Garcia, I didn’t think you felt that way.”

“Lucy, I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”

They laughed as they spoke over one another, and Lucy’s heart filled to near bursting when she saw tears in his eyes.

“ _I wished on the moon, for something I never knew…_ ”

“But,” Lucy began, looking down at their still-joined hands. She was unable to rid herself of her worry and doubts, despite everything he was saying. She shook her head. “You’re still wearing your ring?” It came out as a question, and she knew it was a weak attempt to make it seem like she’d be okay with any answer he gave. She unconsciously ran her thumb over the piece of metal that had been the source of so much emotional anguish these past few months.

He looked down at his hand, then closed his eyes in frustration. “I’ve been such a fool, Lucy.” He rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs. “It’s been making you think I’d never move on, hasn’t it?”

She nodded. No more holding back.

He sighed. “Lucy, I should have removed it long ago.” He did so then, and set the gold band on the table in front of her. She looked at it in shock. “Some foolish part of me felt like I’d be admitting defeat, accepting that I’d lost my family forever, if I did and I…” He shook his head, then repeated, “I’ve been a fool. Lucy, I meant what I said way back when we met Benedict Arnold. I want to save my family, but for them, not for me. They deserve to live.” He paused, then looked at her intently. “But I’m a different man than the one Lorena loved. I’ve become someone different. Someone I thought didn’t deserve anything good for the rest of his life.”

“ _I looked for every loveliness, it all came true. I wished on the moon for you…”_

Lucy felt tears of her own slide down her cheeks. “Garcia, you do though. I love you, so much. I love you for who you are now. I’ve been slowly dying inside, thinking maybe there was some tiny chance you felt the same way about me, but every time I looked at your ring…” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I just never thought I’d be good enough for anyone. I never was before. Not for my mother, not for Wyatt. You _had_ love, and a family. How could I ever be enough?”

Flynn stared at her, disbelief written all over his face. “Lucy, you are better than all of us. If anyone’s not good enough, it’s me.” He laughed tearfully. “I’ve been thinking there was no way you could ever feel for me the way I feel about you. I was even willing to back off and let you pursue things with Wyatt. I actually thought that’s what you wanted.”

Lucy gasped. “How could you?!” She started to giggle, which couldn’t be all that attractive with her tear-stained face, but she didn’t care. “Did you see him shove that slice of pizza in his pocket?” She started shaking with uncontrollable laughter. “Have you forgotten how he doesn’t know how to use a coffee maker?” She snorted. “Did you know the most thoughtful response he could give to my social commentary about McCarthyism was to say the cars were cool?!”

They were both laughing hysterically at this point, partly at Wyatt’s expense (again), partly out of sheer relief to have finally told one another how they felt, and partly from pure unadulterated happiness.

Which is how Connor found them when he brought out creme brulee, tiramisu, and after dinner drinks. Lucy and Flynn looked up in surprise, certain they had not rung the buzzer like Connor had asked, but then Lucy realized they must have knocked into it while they were flailing about laughing. She and Flynn smiled up at him.

“You seem to be having a better time than I ever hoped you would when I set this up,” Connor said with a knowing grin.

Flynn shot Lucy a smile filled with such warmth, such happiness, that she couldn’t speak. If his looks had made her weak before all this, Connor had now given him the courage to knock her over with the sheer intensity of his gaze. Connor had done this for them. He must have had an inkling of how they felt for one another. The man was a veritable Cupid.

She and Flynn watched him set down the final course of their meal, and then walk quickly back to his nook. Lucy was reminded of them watching him walk away just last night after the dinner Denise had brought for them. It seemed like ages ago. She felt like she was living a completely different life now. 

“ _These… arms… of… miiiiiine, they are lonely…”_

Lucy’s heart pounded in her chest as the soulful voice of Otis Redding played through the bunker kitchen. She had always loved this song. Always felt the yearning it spoke of. She was all too familiar with the feeling.

She realized Flynn had stood and was holding out his hand for her to take, which she did. “Care to dance?”

“ _These arms of mine, they are yearning…”_

She had always thought Flynn’s voice was sexy, even when she felt guilty about it when they were on opposite sides of this war, but now that sexiness seemed focused, on her, and that felt… overwhelmingly good. She allowed him to help her to her feet and away from the table, then with a sigh, and a smile, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. They didn’t dance so much as sway, simply holding one another as they savored the moment and their closeness.

The music surrounded them, the sparkling lights… wait, did they just dim? Lucy refused to move her head from Flynn’s chest, but her eyes glanced about to try to determine what was going on. And then she felt Flynn’s chest shaking under her, and she realized, “Connor, working his magic?” Flynn’s chin nodded against the top of her head.

“You’ve brought laughter back into my life, Lucy.” He sighed, and stopped moving so he could lean back and look into her eyes. “Believe it or not, I used to laugh all the time before Rittenhouse. I’ve had no reason to smile, or laugh, for such a long time. Little did I know when you visited me in Sao Paolo that you would be the one to make me smile again.”

If she didn’t kiss him right now, she was going to look back on this moment as a wasted opportunity for the rest of her life. Rising onto her toes, she lifted her arms and ran her finger tips softly along his jaw, and then taking a deep breath for courage, she threaded her fingers through his hair and started to pull his head towards hers, needing to feel his lips on her own. She needn’t have pulled very hard, however, as he had already rested his hands lightly on her hips and was lowering his head. Their lips met, gently at first, but they gave up the pretense of sweet patient romance rather quickly as he reached behind her to lift her up to him and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

This was better. Keeping one hand under her, Flynn ran his other hand up her back and into her hair, and Lucy, her face now on a level with his, pulled his face back to hers hungrily. The kiss deepened and became eager, wanting. She savored the ungodly noise he made when she took his lower lip into her mouth, and then moaned loudly herself and dropped her head to the side when he lowered his mouth to her neck.

_“Come on, come on, baby_

_Just be my little woman_

_Just be my lover.”_

The words basically conveyed exactly what she wanted right now, and she looked into his eyes hungrily. Seeing the same desire there she knew was in her own, she leaned in to nibble on his ear and whispered to him, “Dinner’s over. Take me back to our room.”

Flynn laughed, low and sexy, and Lucy was certain she would remember the sound of it for the rest of her life. And then still carrying her, he walked her backwards out of the kitchen and towards their room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wyatt was hungry. He had been so excited about the new television someone had so generously placed in his room that he’d binged two hours of “Say Yes to the Dress” before realizing he hadn’t eaten dinner. He blinked in confusion at the lights decorating the hallway, but figured Jiya must have wanted to spice things up a bit in the bunker. He thought he heard a moan coming from Flynn and Lucy’s room and wondered if they were watching something on her laptop. _Probably some boring history documentary_ he sniggered to himself _._ As he got closer to the kitchen, he smelled food, and hoped there were leftovers from whatever someone had cooked earlier that night.

As he walked into the kitchen area, he stopped in surprise. Connor and Jiya were sitting at one of the tables, which was covered by a red and white checked tablecloth, eating what looked like some sort of pudding and maybe a coconut cream pie. He moved eagerly to join them, but stopped when he saw that Connor was holding what looked suspiciously like a ring in his hand and was showing it to Jiya. _OMG, is he proposing to her?!_ Jiya looked ecstatic and clapped her hands together, and rather than intrude on their questionable but special moment, Wyatt decided he could make do with the bag of Hot Cheetos he had stashed in his room, and retreated back there pronto.

Walking past Lucy and Flynn’s room again, he thought for sure he had heard a grunt, and laughed to himself. _Most likely Flynn doing push ups again trying to impress Lucy_ he thought, and then promptly put the image out of his head. He couldn’t wait to see the rerun of “Baywatch” he knew would be on momentarily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been a long time coming, and was delayed from coming out last Christmas due to my husband's car accident last December, so it's a bittersweet feeling to see it finally come to completion. Thank you so much for reading!


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